The Homecoming of Mister Stanley Marsh
by Satine89
Summary: Five years after 'You're Getting Old', South Park is plagued with horrific accidents. Kenny proposes the only way to save the town is to bring ex-friend Stan Marsh home. But what if Stan wants nothing to do with this - to say nothing of Cartman?
1. Prologue

_Prologue_

He left with his dad.

There wasn't much else to say about things. The people he grew up with completely shunned him, with reason. He'd gone crazy, they said. Well, crazier. This was South Park. You didn't stay normal for long.

His dad was too crazy for his mom. They split, dividing everything. His dad got possessions and him; his mom got trinkets and his sister. The family was out of town in two months.

Some people thought it'd be for the best. There'd be fewer alien invasions, probably. And he'd grown so insufferable since he turned ten, seeing everything as a personal affront to his refined tastes, or so his former friends would say less eloquently behind his back.

Things didn't change much when he and his dad moved to a small suburb of California. The weird happenstances didn't follow them, but he remained disillusioned, maybe even more disillusioned than before, if that was even possible. His dad remained borderline delusional, but at least had a cynical ass of a son to keep his inanity in check.

Thus, Stan Marsh found himself falling into high school with no friends and a pathetic, lonesome life, in the aptly named Awesometown, California.

A/N: I put in another chapter, because this is pretty slim right here. Go on to the next bit!


	2. About Forgiveness

_About Forgiveness We're Supposed To Have Exchanged_

"Do you ever feel like no one will meet your expectations and you'll live life completely alone because you'd get more benefit from listening to your own droolings than from trying to interpret others' shit?"

The counselor didn't like Stan. Stan was very aware of it. He could tell, from the arch of her perfectly plucked eyebrows, that not many students asked her to philosophically analyze the idea of expectations. Judging from the student body in Awesometown Heights High, Stan understood why. His eyes almost hidden under the brim of his gray beanie, Stan stared at the counselor as she folded her perfectly manicured hands on her oaken desk. It was new, Stan noticed, this year. Yet the administration couldn't afford to fund the lacrosse team anymore.

"You know what feeds negativity?" the counselor finally said, her chipper voice not matching her bemused, irritated expression.

"Everything," Stan responded.

"Negative thoughts," the counselor countered, brushing back some flowing blonde hair.

Stan stared at her darkly, not believing what he heard. Brilliance, utter brilliance! Negative thinking made you feel negative? Someone give the woman a prize! And she had a degree from Stanford, judging from the framed diploma on her wall. Absolutely terrific.

Ever since moving to the sundry asshole of the nation known as Awesometown, Stan hadn't been the best of students. He was smart, yes. He applied himself, mostly because doing work by himself was the only thing he could stomach for any amount of time. His social habits, or lack thereof, infuriated teachers. He took zeroes on group assignments just to avoid conversation. He was on the chess team, but dropped out of it suddenly. The teacher advisor still couldn't piece together why. Stan's mode of dress didn't help; he always pulled on a beanie, and, in the five years since moving, grew out his hair, adopted loose-fitting jackets and baggy shirts, and ripped holes in his jeans out of boredom. He looked like he didn't care. Honestly, he really didn't. All everyone around him did was spew shit, except for his father Randy, who spewed nonsense and shit.

"Really, tell me more," Stan muttered sarcastically.

"You do realize that you'll have to keep coming to see me unless I say you've made improvement?" the counselor reminded him.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to improve," Stan protested.

"Your attitude."

"That's fucking vague."

The counselor sighed. "Why is it always a fight with you?"

She continued to tell him, in no uncertain terms, how being a misanthrope wouldn't look good on any college applications and he'd have to talk to people if he wanted any type of good life for himself. Stan slumped back into the seat. He couldn't tell what she was saying anymore. It was all just shit. Plain and simple.

* * *

><p>"Craig and Tweek are doing it."<p>

"Oh no way."

"Seriously? That doesn't make sense."

"They are. I so saw them in the bathroom."

"Oh no way."

"I don't believe you, Kenny."

"Why were you spying on them anyway?"

"I wasn't spying, they were fucking _there_ –"

"Sounds like spying, dude."

"You stoned again?"

"You do not hallucinate seeing two guys doing it when stoned, Cartman!"

"Well, _I_ don't, but I dunno about _you_…"

It was another typical day at South Park High School, behind the main building, at the third table to the left. Since last year, that table was where Eric Cartman, Kyle Broflovski, Kenny McCormick, and Leopold Stotch held court. Today wasn't a totally atypical day, though gossip was something they tried to avoid, since it was usually wrong. Something Kenny saw, that might have merit.

Cartman rolled his eyes at Kenny's attempts to justify what he saw. Cartman, by all accounts, was a vicious nasty evil child from Hell growing up. He'd evened out a bit, now simply vicious and nasty. He glanced over to Kyle, his best friend, who brushed a strand of red hair out of his face. He needed to cut it; it was starting to curl in odd ways.

Kyle sighed, putting on a lame, confused smile. "Pics or it didn't happen?"

Leopold, called Butters by everyone on earth except his parents, gaped at Kyle, jaw slightly dropped. "Are you kidding? That's invading their privacy and I for –"

"Jesus Christ Butters, relax," Kyle spat back at him, "it was just a joke."

Butters blinked. "Oh. Yeah, of course." He didn't look convinced, but after all the crap Cartman put him through as a kid, it was hard to blame him. It was a miracle Butters even went near the other three.

Kenny, frowning and glaring beneath his mop-top of messy blonde hair, crossed his arms over his ratty t-shirt. "I don't get why you never fucking believe me when I tell you shit."

"Because you're fucking unreliable!" Cartman shouted at him.

"Calm down, Jesus," Kyle muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. "It just doesn't make sense, y'know? Craig is… Craig. And Tweek is… well… Tweek. Y'know?"

Kenny still glared at him. Cartman just narrowed his eyes. "That doesn't make sense."

"Sure it does. They don't fit together."

"They do and _I saw it,_" Kenny emphasized.

"What'd ya do, sit and watch?" Cartman asked.

"Guys, we shouldn't be talking about them like this, even if they are…" Butters offered. Only Kyle listened, since Kenny grew completely flushed, angry, and silent, trying to kill Cartman with an icy stare. Cartman just waited for him to say something.

"Yeah, let's drop it," Kyle said. Kenny frowned, but nodded. Cartman did nothing. "…Cartman?"

"Oh, huh, yeah. Sure." Kenny had a feeling it'd get brought up again in private, much to his chagrin. He still resented Cartman for that Coon and Friends nonsense he'd pulled in elementary school. At least he wasn't homicidal anymore, or as racist. A small victory.

Thankfully, the bell rang at that moment, with a chorus of groans coming from the boys.

"Shit, I hate math."

"At least you have it in the afternoon. Fucking morning classes."

"You should've done painting with me and Cartman."

"No, you shouldn't have, the teacher's a fat ugly bitch."

"Cartman!"

"Okay, she's just a bitch. Happy now?"

"A little…"

Out of nowhere, a gigantic blade fell out of the sky and slammed into Kenny, who was instantly killed in a shower of blood. The other boys stared at the remains before Kyle sighed.

"God DAMN IT. Cartman, get the bucket."

* * *

><p>South Park was in no way a stable place to live. Most of the townspeople knew this. It'd always been weird in South Park, Colorado, with the level of insanity ramping itself up year after year. Most of them agreed that the time a Terrence and Phillip movie led to a little boy sacrificing himself was the weirdest thing ever… until a year ago. When they remembered that a little boy sacrificed himself. And that he'd died a lot more times. Kenny was overjoyed for all of four seconds, before being promptly shot in the face by a disappearing ninja.<p>

Since then, things had slowly degenerated from weird to completely dangerous. People thought things would get better once head town weirdo Randy Marsh and the rest of his family left town. For a while, things were a little more even-keel. But lately, life in South Park was hard to deal with. It was as if the town lived in some sort of wormhole where terrible shit kept happening, with no rhyme or reason. Kenny got to dying about six or seven times a day, in the most contrived, pointless ways. Butters, who also served as a cosmic plaything on occasion, pretty much moved into Cartman's house to avoid being grounded for such things as "stepping on the wrong patch of carpet". Mobs formed with increasing regularity, though South Park was always good at pointless mobs forming. People came back to life, like that strange British guy, Pip. People died with no explanation and no one remembering who they were and what they did, like… that guy. He… he did something?

Sometime around the giant exploding lava bomb mishap five months ago, Mayor McDaniels decided something was seriously wrong in South Park. The government, being used to something wrong in South Park, ignored her.

Sometime around the murderous snowglobe incident, the government declared a state of emergency in South Park. They weren't much help, but they tried, damn it, and that was the important thing.

The atmosphere in the town changed with all the insanity going on. Cartman mellowed out, which was a huge help. It's hard to laugh at people's misfortune when you found yourself routinely dying in some freak cloud maiming accident and being brought back by another freak cloud maiming accident. Butters lost his innocence the moment he realized that he'd been callous enough to not notice Kenny dying, and since picked up the (marginally less baffling) persona of a social crusader… while remaining perfectly oblivious to most dark things. Kenny self-medicated a lot; the only difference now was that the town didn't blame him.

And Kyle found himself trying to pull things together, to keep a semblance of normalcy in their group of four. That used to be Stan's job, he'd recall. Stan made peace out of thin air, it seemed, before he decided everything on earth was shit.

Sometimes Kyle wondered if he was right, like now, as he mopped up his friend's blood for the nineteenth time this week. Maybe everything was shit.

Then Kyle recalled it was only Tuesday, and scrubbed the concrete outside of the back entrance even harder, ignoring Cartman muttering, sarcastically, that now he'd never know if Craig and Tweek were actually doing it.

It was all shit.

* * *

><p>AN: Okay, now that we have a better idea of how this story will go… XD

This is my first foray into South Park fiction. I had to write something when I saw 'You're Getting Old', because Stan, moreso than most fictional characters, has always been pretty close to me. I relate to him. So seeing him go cynical made me snap into action. I don't know how long this will be, but there's gonna be some insanity and hopefully you like it. Please, please, PLEASE, concrit and feedback is requested and helpful!

DISCLAIMER: I don't own South Park. Duh.


	3. Wish I Wasn't Always Wrong

_Wish I Wasn't ALWAYS Wrong…_

"Staaaaaaaaaaaaaan?"

Stan closed his eyes and stifled an irritated growl. He'd gotten _this close_ to just sneaking into his room and listening to the glorious sound of silence. Nope, not today.

It took Stan a few seconds to realize that his father's tone of voice wasn't… normal. That's what made Stan walk a little quicker to the living room in the small one-story they shared, taking off his shoes and leaving them behind.

"Yeah Dad?" Stan asked.

Wandering into the living room, though still hanging on the edges, he saw his dad, Randy, sitting in the small blue couch, placed directly in front of the television but in the way of every walkway through the room. Stan glanced at the back of his father's head, waiting for something to happen. Randy didn't say anything, leaning forward, focused on the television.

"Dad?"

"South Park's on the news," Randy offered by way of explanation. Stan's eyes refocused. He couldn't hear what the news anchor was saying, obscured as it was by the sheer amount of bullshit she spewed, but the images were… something else.

"Is that an exploding lava bomb?" Stan asked no one in particular.

"There's a state of emergency there," Randy explained.

The two men stared at the television for a little while longer. Stan felt his eyes drop to the floor midway through the silence. Slowly, he walked out of the room.

* * *

><p>Stan stared at the ceiling of his bedroom, feeling worse than before. He hated South Park. He hated Awesometown, too, he didn't mean to compare – how do you compare a brown shit to a slightly more brown shit? But he had no positive associations with the place. Everything went to hell in a handbasket, every damn week, and then a magical reset button appeared, making things normal before the next week rolled along, bringing the next asinine problem. Half the time they didn't even make sense, the problems. Mecha-Streisand?<p>

And don't even get him started on the problems he could control. Stan curled his legs up as he slid up his bed, resting his head on a flat pillow. He hadn't thought about it much, because every time he thought about it he wanted to shoot himself, but he let Kyle get away from him. Kenny was a good friend, if a bit nuts, and Cartman was a borderline homicidal maniac, but Kyle. Kyle was his best friend. And he turned out to be just like the rest of them!

Except for Craig. Craig had it right the whole time.

Kyle, though. Stan tried not to let his cynicism affect how he viewed Kyle, but he couldn't help it. And that's what made everything go downhill. His parents' divorce was something he saw coming (and on occasion, pretty much assumed would happen); he loved Sharon and Randy but Randy was the human equivalent of a squirrel, and you could only put up with so much. Stan didn't think Kyle would ever leave him.

Okay, yes. Stan loved Kyle. A lot. Maybe that played a part in it all, Stan thought. They were only ten. It wasn't like Stan was really aware that you didn't typically have drag-out emotionally devastating moments like the ones he and Kyle shared without some deeper attachment. Good thing he realized all this about a year ago, right? Stan pulled his beanie over his eyes, hoping it might help him fall asleep.

God help him, he was thinking about South Park. Well, let them rot. Let everyone rot. They were all pieces of shit anyway.

…Except for Kyle.

* * *

><p>Kenny woke up in the nurse's office bed, sitting up to see Kyle, Cartman, and Butters waiting for him to open his eyes. Kenny shook the hair out of his face and sighed. The other three boys nodded.<p>

"…Fuck," Kenny muttered.

"Yeah," Kyle agreed.

"…_fuck,"_ Kenny repeated again.

Butters shifted uncomfortably in his hard plastic chair, his wispy dirty blonde hair lifting slightly in the air-conditioner breeze. "Things are so bad."

"Yeah," Kyle agreed, stuck in hellish auto-pilot.

"Not a whole lot we can do about it," Kenny muttered. He'd been cursed to die continually, over and over again, since he could remember. He used to wish that his friends would remember his deaths, but that only opened up a whole new can of worms. Now they were watching him die ten, twenty, thirty times a week, and it was taking its toll. (At least they weren't too aware that his mother was spontaneously rebirthing him ten to thirty times a week. They didn't need to be more scarred.) And he wasn't the only cursed one anymore – Kenny knew that the other kids didn't remember Chef, or Towlie, or the others sucked into South Park's swirling vortex of weird. Kenny was also pretty sure he was the only one who knew Pip died at least twice. Seemed he always had to be burdened by something.

"Sucks, man," Cartman muttered, the cogs in his brain whirring. Whatever idea he came up with, Kenny thought, wouldn't be worth trying, even if this was the same kid who summoned Cthulu to do his bidding.

"Is that really all you can fucking say?" Kenny muttered. Sometimes he wished he still had that stupid orange parka, so he could hide his face in the hood and scream obscenities. He was glad his friends were here, really, but he knew this was just killing them. None of them knew how it felt to die.

Yet.

"…We don't know what else to do," Kyle admitted, covering for Cartman, who was still thinking. "There's just so much wrong."

"And everyone's trying to figure it out," Butters offered hopefully, with a sweet smile.

"That's working," Kenny retorted sarcastically before cringing. "…Sorry."

"We're all on edge," Butters said mildly. Kenny wondered if he used that to explain everything his parents did to him. At least Kenny's mom and dad used their newfound paranoia to try and ease Kenny's suffering. He and his dad went out and smoked pot on the roof a few weeks ago, and until the spaceship crushed them both, it was kind of nice, bonding with his dad.

Cartman seemed to be thinking the same thing about Butters' nutcase family, but didn't say anything, just giving him a little glance before going back to his thinking.

"If we could stop the things falling from the sky –" Butters offered.

"The net didn't work," Kyle reminded him.

"Neither did the metal dome," Kenny added.

"Or the electromagnetic fence," Kyle elaborated.

"I get it, guys," Butters finally mumbled. "…but, like, find the source of all that."

"We are _not_ going on an adventure," Kenny said forcefully. "We'll all get killed."

"Death doesn't seem permanent –"

"Oh it is," Kenny intoned darkly, "for some people."

He didn't want to think about it. There was no way in fucking hell he was letting his remaining friends die.

…Remaining friends.

Stan Marsh.

Kenny blinked and stared at Cartman, who glanced up at him after a few seconds.

"…are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Kenny asked.

"Probably not, you stoned ass," Cartman responded. "I'm thinking we go on an adventure."

Kenny's frown twitched. He finally had something that might pan out. Of course, it might not, which would be a pretty real concern and would just make things in South Park worse, but… Kenny was never as close to Stan as Kyle was, but he wasn't dying every thirty seconds when Stan and his family were around. People insisted that things didn't go haywire until about a year ago, but the people of South Park were good at ignoring warning signs. He was good at ignoring warning signs. None of them wanted to think about Stan, anyway. He'd gone batshit. They all gossiped about it.

He might still be crazy. But bringing him back could be worth it.

"I have a better idea."

* * *

><p>AN: First of all, thank you to everyone who's read and reviewed so far! This is the last of the chapters leading up to the big crux of the plot outlined in the story summary. Hopefully everyone is enjoying this, and, as always, concrit and feedback is much appreciated!

One quick thing, though – FlyingTackle asked me in their review what would happen if this story continued beyond when new South Park episodes start. Basically, this whole story would become AU and post-'You're Getting Old' canon would be ignored. There won't be any epic snap-backs here; I have the entire plot of this story outlined. So in case you were also curious about that, there you go.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own South Park.


	4. It's Okay To Be Easily Ignored

_It's Okay To Be Easily Ignored_

Cartman didn't want to hear about Stan Fucking Marsh, okay? He couldn't believe what he was hearing spewing from Kenny's mouth. Kenny wasn't his best friend or anything, nothing like Kyle, but it still sickened him that this specter of an asshole was still treated like he mattered. He didn't matter. Cartman may have lightened up in certain aspects – his racism towards Jews was a bit unfounded, he realized as he befriended Kyle, and being demonic certainly won him no favors, and got him struck by lightning. But that excess anger had to go somewhere, and Stan was conveniently there.

Cartman had to deal with Kyle missing Stan for years after he moved to the middle of who even cares. Cartman had to deal with everyone going insane after finding out Kenny died all the time, even though it was always Stan and Kyle who saw him kick the bucket. And both of Stan's parents left town, so his mom had fewer friends, and somehow that was his fault, too. Cartman didn't give a shit. It was like none of them remembered that Stan, before leaving town, was a little shit who didn't realize that he was just like the rest of them. He thought so damn highly of himself that he acted like everything around him was shit. Stan still probably moped his way through life viewing everything through his shit filter, thinking he was so above everyone.

To say that Kenny's suggestion of tracking down Stan and bringing him back to South Park wasn't appreciated by Cartman would be a massive understatement. At least he wasn't the only one who looked ready to disagree: Kyle turned white and Butters looked confused.

"How is that not an adventure?" Butters asked.

"…Stan?" Kyle repeated, as if he couldn't believe the suggestion.

"Bullshit," Cartman spat.

Kenny glared at him, with those unsettling, sunken eyes. "Bullshit?"

"Yes, bullshit," Cartman repeated, staying with his original thought pattern. "Remember when we last saw Stan?"

"When you last saw Stan," Kyle whispered.

Cartman pretended not to hear that, even though, later today, he'd have to suffer through the first Stan-related crying jag in two years. And Kyle had been doing so well. "He's a self-absorbed little shit who hates us all."

"You were a self-absorbed little shit too!" Kenny spat at him.

"He's gotten better," Butters admitted, trying to cut off the argument before it started. Cartman ignored him, too.

"Really? I didn't leave the rest of you after calling you all shit!" Cartman yelled back.

Kenny leaned up in the sick bed, frown twitching wildly. "His parents got _divorced, he didn't have a choice!"_

"_He didn't need to call us shit! WE AREN'T SHIT!"_

"STOP!" Butters yelled, staring pointedly at Cartman, who was ready to leap out of his chair. Slowly, Cartman sank back into his chair, giving Butters a bit of a glare. He didn't really mean it. Butters usually knew when things were getting out of control. Cartman tried to heed his words. But it didn't change anything about Stan Marsh.

"…I'm not going to go find him," Cartman resolutely said.

Kenny got out of the bed. "Cool, we'll leave you out of it. Fucker."

"Fine, leave me out of it, douchebag," Cartman responded, getting up and walking towards the door. Without another word, he left the nurse's office.

* * *

><p>Kyle didn't call Cartman that afternoon. It wasn't the best idea, he figured, given that Cartman had a massive meltdown and would probably spend the afternoon avoiding snapping at his mom and apologizing to Butters. No, Kyle would work this one out on his own tonight.<p>

Maybe it was better, he reasoned as he sat in front of his computer, knowing full well that doing a Facebook search for Stan Marsh would come up with nothing. That whole Facebook fiasco did happen, after all. Stan wouldn't want to deal with Facebook ever again. Kyle felt a smile crack across his face, tears catching in the corners of his mouth. Oh God, he was crying again.

Kyle blamed himself. He knew he shouldn't, and it was irrational, and how many times did Cartman tell him it was totally pointless and the guy was being a little shit on his own? But Kyle still blamed himself for it. They'd had fights before. Kyle thought of them as break-ups now. He didn't realize it at the time, but he had quite the thing for Stan Marsh. …_Still_ had quite the thing, actually. The ghost of a once-witty friend was a better romantic partner than anyone in town, apparently. Somewhere, Kyle had a feeling Cartman knew that, and was trying, in his bizarre way, to get Kyle to give up on him. Why, Kyle would never know. You never knew with Eric Cartman.

Maybe that was why they never spoke about Stan, after the initial gossiping period. The idea of Stan just drove everyone to extremes, with Butters trapped in the middle. Kenny was still fiercely loyal to him; Cartman had moved on and expected everyone to do the same; and Kyle…

Kyle couldn't even bear to hear his friends say his name without a laundry list of fears and hopes and dashed dreams and regrets and promises never filled blasting into his head. He was crying. _Crying. _Crying and still searching for Stan's name in Facebook, even though it wouldn't come up and it never would.

Kenny was the practical one. He'd be able to find Stan. Kyle was only doing this to keep himself from completely losing his shit, because then his mom would come up, and then Ike would come up, and then his entire family would be having a 'Kyle is crying again' meeting, and… that just couldn't happen.

Kyle wiped his eyes with his jacket sleeve, turning away from the computer. Within seconds, he was back at it.

Stan Marsh still didn't have a Facebook.

* * *

><p>"Most kids your age have one," the counselor offered.<p>

Stan, wearing a black beanie instead of a gray one and looking positively murderous, wasn't having a good day at all. It was up there with Kyle turning into a shit-spewing mess, to be fair. He'd had dreams about that place last night. And all its insanity. And Cartman giving Kyle AIDS, something he'd totally forgotten about but served to make him completely pissed upon falling out of bed in the morning. He couldn't even explain it to Randy. It wasn't that Randy was particularly perceptive; it was that Stan was so mad he almost overturned a chair while trying to sit on it.

"I am not getting a Facebook because you suggest it," Stan spat. "I had a bad experience with it."

He expected his counselor to snap back that everyone has bad experiences with Facebook, including the makers of Facebook. But no one he knew in Awesometown had the mental ability to retort like that. That facet of reality was unique to South Park. He sneered again, not sure what his guidance counselor was saying to him. Something idiotic.

He needed to stop thinking about South Park. There was nothing there anymore.

His guidance counselor turned her computer monitor to show him her Facebook profile. She had a Facebook? Jesus.

Back to South Park, he thought, eyes trailing along the ceiling. Or not. Yes, things apparently were bad there, but that didn't make it any different from the past. Shit happened. It'd fix itself in a few hours. And everyone could go back to being massive shits.

He didn't fully believe in his venom, though.

* * *

><p>AN: Again, I'd like to thank everyone for reading and reviewing! I'm glad that people are interested in the turns this story takes. This chapter is not only a transitional chapter with little going on - it also has my first attempt at writing something from Cartman's standpoint. I'm not sure if it works, but I'm hoping it does.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own South Park.


	5. You Would've Wanted It This Way

_Knowing That You Would Have Wanted It This Way_

"Hi, I'm looking for the phone number of a certain Randy Marsh," Kenny said into Cartman's cell phone.

Cartman and Butters, sitting on the couch in Cartman's house, watched him as he listened to the operator, who was asking him some basic questions. Kenny made up a story about him being an old teacher that he wanted to reconnect with. The idea of Randy Marsh as a teacher was mildly amusing, Butters had to admit, even though it was kind of mean to think about.

Cartman and Kenny were still pretty irritated with each other. Butters didn't like confrontation, but he kind of understood where they both were coming from. It couldn't be fun to die all the time. Butters got sick watching it happen. At the same time, Stan was fifteen. If he wanted to talk to the rest of them, he knew where to find them. Stan hadn't bothered to stay in touch. Cartman had to deal with the brunt of Kyle going insane with grief, and those wounds were still fresh. Butters glanced over at Cartman, who was pointedly looking at the floor. Since elementary school, he'd grown pretty tall, and definitely wasn't as overweight as he used to be. Not that he was in shape, but he looked almost normal. Butters' eyes trailed back to Kenny, who paced the floor as he spoke, dancing with some invisible death, his feet spinning on the carpet with each turn. Kenny changed physically, too – he was still a stick figure of a kid whose clothing seemed to engulf him, though he had abandoned the parka that made him unintelligible. But his gaunt gawkiness wasn't something he chose. His life was chaos, and his body began to show the toll. Sometimes Kenny looked like nothing but bones.

Now that Butters thought about it, Kyle was the only one who still strongly resembled his ten year old self. Butters got pretty tall, and actually took care of himself. He didn't brag about his appearance, but he liked his baby face and his smile and his neatly trimmed blonde hair. Butters didn't know why he was thinking about this. Maybe because he assumed Stan would look exactly the same – short brown hair tucked under his beanie, wide eyes, a grim slash of a mouth.

Butters wouldn't tell Kenny or Kyle – definitely not Kyle, who bowed out of today's whatever this was for reasons everyone was painfully aware of – but he kind of agreed with Cartman. He liked Stan – the old Stan. The pre-tenth birthday Stan. Kenny had a point, and he had a good idea. Butters, though, couldn't get past the fact that, in all likelihood, Stan wouldn't have changed much in the past five years. Stan dug himself a very negative hole. Butters tried to help him out of it once, right before Stan and Randy moved out, but Stan stared at him like he was crazy, and Butters got mighty uncomfortable… and left.

But unlike Cartman, Butters couldn't hate Stan. He had a hard time hating anyone, even his parents, which Cartman got on him all the time about. Stan just needed a little sunshine.

Butters knew full well that what was happening in South Park wasn't sunshine.

Kenny began to take down a phone number on his pad of paper. Cartman glanced up at the sound of a pen scrawling; Butters stared at the ceiling, smiling to himself. Well, they'd have to bring the sunshine to Stan, first. Kenny's plan said that they'd go to wherever he lived to bring him back, all of them. Except Cartman, who was remaining stubbornly anti-plan; unlike Kenny, Butters knew that Cartman wasn't changing his mind. His twitching eye said as much.

"Thanks very much!" Kenny said before hanging up the phone and glancing at the number. Looking at Cartman and Butters, he said, "I'll have to borrow a computer for this next part."

"Fucking mooch –" Cartman began, standing up as Butters jumped up and retrieved his laptop. It'd taken two days and a lot of sneaking around to get all of Butters' stuff out of the Stotch household and into the Cartman household. The laptop was one of the hardest things to sneak out. But it was worth it, Butters realized, because he could do his homework without fighting Cartman for time playing whatever video game he was playing.

Butters went upstairs, retrieving his laptop from the room he and Cartman shared. He could hear the distinct sounds of arguing growing below him. Butters didn't know why he was surprised. When Stan left and Kyle grew so pitiful that Cartman couldn't even bear to make fun of him anymore, Kenny took up the brunt of his anger. This plan of his only made it worse.

Butters walked down the stairs. Yeah, they were arguing, all right.

"You could just call him and leave the rest of us out of it!"

"We're all fucking in this together, Cartman!"

"Oh no, I'm not the one dying every five fucking seconds, that's _all you,_ Kenny."

"Because I really fucking enjoy fucking dying!"

"Can y'all stop?" Butters sighed, intruding into the argument's bubble. The other two, who'd been at each other's throats seconds before, slowly retreated from each other, letting Butters sit on the couch. Popping open his laptop while staring at the both of them, they stared back uneasily. After waiting a few seconds to load, Butters handed it over to Kenny.

"So, you can find him?" Butters asked.

"…yeah," Kenny responded, a bit deflated.

"All right."

Cartman said nothing. Butters expected that.

* * *

><p>Stan had another dream about South Park.<p>

This wasn't like the night before, where repressed memories and stupid adventures flooded his mind and made him want to kick the nearest available object. This one was sort of weird.

One of the few memories of South Park he cherished was one of him and Kyle watching the sunset. Stan honestly couldn't remember why they were watching it, or who came up with the idea, or why Cartman didn't find out and threaten to exterminate their gay asses. All he knew was that if life was always like that memory, he might not be so damn cynical. So when the memory popped up in his dream, he was pleasantly surprised. Until he realized he was watching his ten year old self and ten year old Kyle. He was disconnected from his own memory.

Stan didn't know how to react to this lucid dream. He heard once that you could control lucid dreams, so he tried yelling at himself to just kiss him. Nope, nothing. He was watching a never-ending moment.

It was just as bad as the truly awful memories. He was watching himself fail to make any sort of move. Yes, when he was ten, he didn't know he wanted to make a move, but this was his dream, he should be able to control it, he _should_ –

When Stan woke up, he glanced at his clock. Three-fifteen AM.

Great.

* * *

><p>Butters was falling asleep in front of Cartman, but damn it, Cartman needed someone to talk to. It might be three-fifteen in the morning. Cartman didn't care. Butters barely focused on him, licking his upper lip subconsciously as he sat at Cartman's right side.<p>

"…Eric, it's late and I'm tired."

"It's fucking irritating!"

"…Eric, it's late and I'm tired."

Cartman sighed, burying his face in his hands before lifting it up and staring at Butters. "And you know what'll happen? The little shit'll come back, act exactly the same, and ruin things even more! South Park will probably fucking _explode_ under the weight of his ego!"

"…it didn't explode under yours," Butters muttered. He didn't really know what he was saying.

"I know you agree with me," Cartman said pointedly.

"…yeah, but…"

"But _what?"_

"…it could…" Butters closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep. Cartman shook him a bit to wake him up. "It could work!" Butters blinked wildly before settling back into an even stupor.

"...And it could _not_."

"We won't know unless we try," Butters admitted, lying down and settling into the bedsheets. Cartman opened his mouth to protest, but Butters was pretty much out the minute he hit the pillow. He glared at him for a few seconds, but found he couldn't stay mad at Butters for long. Probably why Cartman didn't kick him out of his bed, instead moving to the floor and settling into Butters' usual bed.

Sometimes Cartman wondered why they didn't share a bed. Then Cartman reminded himself that he couldn't, under any circumstances, ever end up like Kyle. Someone had to be sane in their group, and he and Butters had an agreement, in any case. They mutually understood each other's feelings, and the reasons why no one could ever know about it. Beyond Cartman raging against that kind of thing, that gay thing, all the time, there was still Kyle, who only needed to hear Stan's name to have a complete mental breakdown. Kyle could handle Wendy going out with someone besides Stan, and losing Bebe (though he never really cared), the world around him exploding. He was really the only one of the four who had the stomach to properly handle every time Kenny died. But if someone close to him got in a relationship with someone close to him… well, Cartman had no way of knowing, but he suspected that Kyle had some sort of weird Jew power that would destroy the universe, and Cartman didn't want to tamper with it.

Or hurt him.

He'd already been so hurt.

* * *

><p>AN: I love writing Butters. Really, I do. Of all the characters, it's hard for me to not write everything from Butters' perspective, because he's so easygoing and his biases are easy to verbalize. To compare, Cartman's biases are very easy to understand, but harder to put into words, because he's a little hellion with no use for logic. He operates purely on emotion. Kenny's even harder, because he's guarded and emotionally hardened. It's hard to find an opening to figure out Kenny's world. Just thought I'd share a little bit from the writing process there. As always, thank you to everyone who's reading and reviewing – happy July, and hope it finds you well! Your words mean a lot to me.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own South Park.


	6. And I'll Be There

_Sing Out This Song And I'll Be There_

He watched the sunrise. Alone.

* * *

><p>"We can't ditch school" was Kyle's one request.<p>

"You shouldn't even be going, you stupid fucks" was Cartman's… request…?

"Let's try to be bright and friendly!" was Butters'.

Kenny figured they wouldn't be in Awesometown, California, for much longer than a weekend (what the hell kind of name was that, anyway?), but even so, he ignored Kyle's request. Half the kids didn't show up to school anymore, anyways. It was rather hard when houses were sinking into spontaneously-grown patches of quicksand and Mecha-Streisand suddenly appeared on the outskirts of town. Kenny was amazed anyone even stayed in South Park anymore.

Kenny knew that, even if his house lit on fire and collapsed, he probably wouldn't be leaving South Park. The McCormicks were a little too poor to contemplate it, and, somehow, the increased insanity surrounding them made them only more determined to survive. Kenny felt the same way. Getting things to semi-normal was his main priority, and Cartman could go fuck himself for not caring.

Kenny had it all planned out, with help from Kyle, who was shaky and punch-drunk with unnerved anticipation through most of the process. Kenny wished the guy would just admit he still had a boner for Stanley Marsh, but if Kenny tried to force it, Kyle would clam up, and Cartman would get worse, and Butters would panic and run around in circles. They were completely fucking dysfunctional, Kenny thought as he glanced over the itinerary for their trip. Yes, he'd gotten electrocuted stealing the money Cartman hid in his locker, but he was now in possession of three plane tickets, direct to Awesometown, set to leave tomorrow morning. Butters agreed easily, smiling and being all excitable; Kyle protested ditching school very weakly before caving. (Shock.)

So they'd be leaving tomorrow, Kenny informed them at lunch. Cartman stormed off to do whatever it was Cartman did when he stormed off, leaving the other three boys by themselves at the usual table. Butters rested his head on the table, watching Cartman walk away. "Aww shucks, there he goes, being all mad."

"Sorry, forgot you have to live with that fuck," Kenny admitted.

Butters didn't say anything.

"He's gotten over worse," Kyle pointed out before turning back to Kenny. "…You really think we can bring him back, though?"

"Now really isn't the time to question it," Kenny pointed out.

Butters smiled his simple smile. "I bet we can bring him back just fine."

"But what if he doesn't come back with us?" Kyle persisted.

"Then we beat the shit out of him and shove him in my carry-on," Kenny offered. Kyle turned white. Butters narrowed his eyes confusedly.

"Kenny, we're not really gonna do that, right?" Butters asked warily.

"Probably not," Kenny offered. He wasn't sure he'd want to beat up Stan, anyway. There were certain parties who might get offended by that. "But he needs to come back."

* * *

><p>Randy Marsh was considering going back to South Park.<p>

The idea was enough to make Stan's jaw drop to the kitchen counter as he ate his morning cereal (Cheerios; Stan enjoyed how bland they were). Randy spewed out some random shit, sounding very much like the Randy Marsh Stan grew up with back in South Park. Stan couldn't even tune him out, he was so fired up. He was going to do something, and do something relevant, and… Stan had no idea what the fuck he was talking about, but he sure sounded passionate.

For a moment, Stan felt like glowering at his father, but it was bizarre, seeing Randy like this. Like some ghost of the past had possessed them both – Stan wasn't going to tell Randy, but he'd been thinking about South Park a lot, to the point of detriment. Stan had no desire to return, except in those moments when he wondered if he'd ever be able to patch things up with Kyle. And that wasn't a desire to return, that was a desire to rewrite history.

Awesometown was a lot more sedate than South Park, and that didn't appeal to Randy's sense of inflated insanity, Stan noticed. His father worked best in social settings, and Awesometown fell under the banner of 'paranoid small town'. Everyone kept to themselves, except for the teachers who contacted parents with worthless concerns in a meaningless effort to 'help'. (Stan, bitter and cynical? Never.) Randy didn't get very excited about things anymore. Sometimes, Stan wondered if he missed Sharon, but he couldn't piece together Randy's thought processes. Now, though, now it was obvious. He could save South Park!

"…Dad, you can't save South Park," Stan tried to say, glancing out from under his brown beanie. "It'll be fine in a few days."

"Stan, I appreciate you saying that, but it's something that needs to be done," Randy informed Stan. Cue about ten more minutes of randomness and bullshit. Stan went back to his soggy cereal, trying to understand what Randy was saying. He didn't want to agree with his dad on this, but he wanted to know what was so important about saving South Park from… whatever it was this time. Holes in the fabric of time-space? Lava bombs? Toddlers and Tiaras?

He wanted to know if it connected to his own thoughts about his hometown, good, bad, and nostalgic. Stan wanted to watch a sunrise and not see it as a reminder that he had to live another day in this shit hole. But if he was expecting some sort of greater meaning to life to come from his dad, he was seriously losing it.

* * *

><p>AN: I'm going to be gone this weekend, so I thought it'd be nice to give you all a chapter before I leave. This one's pretty short, but it does set up the next narrative arc in the story, the Awesometown arc. Thank you again to all the readers and reviewers! Your support means a lot.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own South Park.


	7. Broke The Wings Off A Little Songbird

_Broke The Wings Off A Little Songbird_

The plane ride wasn't bad, honestly. Kenny didn't die once, which was a major achievement, and Butters could keep himself entertained with a Skymall magazine for hours. All things considered, Kyle knew he shouldn't feel this unnerved. But he did. For the first time in years, he was seeing Stan Marsh, his once-super best friend, now who knows what, the guy Kyle stubbornly remained in love with despite everything that happened between them. Kyle didn't know what wound Stan up so tightly in those last few months before the Marshes divorced. Yes, Kyle was frustrated with him, but Kyle thought it would end the way all things ended between them – the eventual making-up moment. But it never happened. Stan drifted away, then bolted.

Kyle worried he'd bolt again. Especially if he assumed Cartman wasn't far behind.

It was a bit weird, Kyle had to admit, that he and Cartman were friends at this point. Kyle couldn't begin to count the number of atrocities Cartman tried to inflict on him. The Stan situation started in a very Cartman-like way: Kyle was crushed and Cartman called him a gay Jew. But as the months wore on and Kyle remained crushed, Cartman's teasing turned into full-on concerned anger. Kyle didn't know where it came from, but suddenly Eric Cartman – genocidal, cannibal-enabling, verbally-abusing, racist, homophobic, insane Eric Cartman, in case there was any confusion – was trying to get Kyle to stop moping. And he was going to insane lengths to do it, too. Kenny was more predisposed to hang out with Cartman, anyway, but getting the mild, soothing presence of Butters in the group was a supernatural feat. And it helped, having a stable group of people to be around.

At least, until now, in the Awesometown Airport (alliteration didn't make Kyle feel any more at ease), the stability of that group threatened. Kyle wanted to think that Stan would welcome him with open arms, and he'd have been waiting to come back, and everything would fall into place. He also wanted to think that Stan would slam a door in his face and want nothing to do with him. There couldn't be any other alternative… could there?

Kenny was helping Butters take his suitcase out of the baggage claim turnstile, since it was spinning almost inhumanly fast. Kenny practically fell into the turnstile, but sustained no damage. Kyle, watching, breathed a sigh of relief, clutching his own bag. He didn't plan on staying for very long, and knew how to pack light. Plus, there had to be a Laundromat somewhere in Awesometown (the name was cringe-worthy, Kyle had to admit it, even when separated from the alliteration). Kenny and Butters came up to him, their luggage safely in their possession. Kenny was already pulling some scrawled-down directions transcribed from Google Maps out of his pants pocket. Butters leaned over to glance down at it before Kenny shoved it back in his pocket, staring directly at Kyle.

"You ready?"

Kyle blinked. Kenny looked so sure of himself… but so worried for him. So Kyle took a leaf from Cartman's book.

"Yeah."

Kyle didn't know how he could sound so sure of himself but feel so anxious. But he pulled it off. Somehow.

* * *

><p>Stan was at home, by himself, doing the remains of his Algebra 2 homework when he heard a knock at the door. Stan didn't know why someone was knocking. If they had visitors, they were people from work that came to drink beer and shoot the shit with Randy. He let the knocking die down, but when whoever it was persisted in trying to destroy his front door, he got off of the couch and, adjusting his beanie, went to open it.<p>

When Stan got there and pulled the door open, he saw a blonde kid he hadn't seen in five years staring at him.

Stan closed the door in shock.

Great. He was now hallucinating he was in South Park. Kenny McCormick wasn't at his front door, that couldn't be –

"Did you just fucking close the door on me?"

Yep, that was really Kenny McCormick. Stan opened the door again, noticing two other figures a bit behind Kenny. One of them was gaping at him; the other was smiling placidly. The smiling guy had to be Butters – his platinum blonde hair and aura of innocence carried over easily. So the redhead gawking –

Holy fucking shit.

Stan knew that, in that moment, he probably appeared a bit insane, eyes darting around, trying to figure out what was happening. Kenny certainly thought so, staring at him like he expected… well, something besides Stan visibly freaking out. Stan didn't know what to do. He didn't believe in fate, but clearly thinking about South Park caused some sort of Lovecraftian disturbance in his boring life. Or something.

"…Hey… guys," Stan nervously said.

"Hey," Kenny said flatly, not very amused by panicked Stan.

"Hiya Stan!" Butters greeted, just as sunshiney as he'd been five years prior.

"…hey…" Kyle echoed, voice shaking nervously as well.

Stan stood there in shocked silence for a few seconds. Kenny was boring a hole into his forehead with that intense gaze of his; Butters was… well, Butters, mild and waiting to respond to whatever Stan said; Kyle was busy taking in every inch of Stan's clothing. Stan didn't mind Kyle's open-mouthed confusion.

"…what're you guys doing here?" Stan finally spat out, walking out of the house and closing the door behind him. He was hoping, praying that Randy didn't come home anytime soon. If he did, he'd immediately take Stan and they'd be back in South Park in a day. Stan knew he didn't want that, even if he was content to let Kyle gape at him for a while longer. Yes, that was fine.

"It's a long fucking story," Kenny said. "Anywhere we can go to talk?"

Stan glanced around. "We could just go in the house." He opened the door; Kenny nodded and went inside. Butters, still placidly calm and smiling, hugged Stan, something that made him vaguely uncomfortable, before going in. Kyle lingered by Stan for a little bit.

"…This is surprising," Stan admitted. It was – they were here, and they weren't spewing shit. Kyle wasn't spewing shit.

"Hopefully it'll make more sense when we explain…" Kyle responded before going inside. Stan shut the door behind him as he followed.

The four boys made themselves comfortable on the couch in front of the television. Stan had a sneaking suspicion that this all had to do with South Park somehow, and resolved then and there to not let anyone move into this place temporarily. He had Randy to think about, after all.

Kenny didn't waste time once he got settled. "South Park's falling apart."

"…and?" Stan responded.

"Literally, it's falling apart," Kenny pressed again. "Everything is fucking insane. This is the first time in weeks I haven't died more than once a day."

Stan raised an eyebrow. "…died?"

Butters' smile slipped a bit. "…you don't remember?"

"Remember what?" Stan asked. Now he was anxious and confused. Kenny was dying? Every day? That… sounded suspiciously like bullshit. But he knew that his own cynicism would keep him from hearing something that dumb. Kenny was being sincere. Honest. Stan sank a little deeper into the couch.

Kenny glanced to Kyle, who looked disconcerted but not too worried. Kenny, steeled by this, continued. "Nothing. It… we'll talk later." Stan eyed him, baffled, as Kenny continued. "South Park is… well, things are going to hell."

"The lava bombs didn't fix themselves?" Stan asked. The pause that followed led him to explain, "It was on the news."

"You watch the news?" Kyle wondered.

"For the pictures," Stan responded. At least they were on the same wavelength.

"No, they didn't fucking fix themselves!" Kenny spat. "Why do you think we're here?"

Stan stared at Kenny, who had a fire in his eyes, a fire Stan had never seen in him before. He glanced to Butters, who also wanted to know the answer, judging from his curious pursed lips. He then glanced to Kyle, who looked as Kyle always looked in the past, just older. Stan turned back to Kenny.

"To hide?" Stan answered, honestly, cynically.

Kenny frowned. Wrong answer. "To bring you back."

"…not following."

"We were thinking," Butters interrupted, a much calmer voice than the slowly simmering Kenny, "that, since, y'know, things weren't goin' all crazy when you were around before, maybe bringing you back home might fix things."

Stan was silent for a long time. Kenny continued to stare at him from beneath some stray, thick blonde hair. Butters didn't see why his explanation was so… galling… to Stan. Galling, that's what it was. Things went wrong, so obviously, everyone had to come back and bring him home? And he called it 'home'. South Park wasn't home. Awesometown wasn't home. Stan had no emotional attachment to either place. He had an emotional attachment to Kyle, yes, but – wait. Stan turned his glare to Kyle.

"You agreed to come?" Stan asked pointedly.

Stan watched Kyle's expectations shatter. Kyle, mouth opening slightly in shock, quickly moved to stare at the floor. That was all Stan needed to see.

"…Stan –" Butters offered.

"Get out," Stan demanded.

Kenny said something, and finally, shit began to obscure what he said. Thick, spewing bullshit. Stan stood up and walked to the door, slamming it open. Thankfully, Kenny got the hint, and kept on shouting bullshit at him as he left. Butters awkwardly followed, apologizing for making Stan mad. Kyle was last to pass Stan's line of vision.

Stan would be lying if he said that the crushed look on Kyle's face didn't kill him a bit inside.

But it didn't matter. As soon as Kyle walked out the doorframe, Stan slammed the door shut. What was he, a pawn in South Park's twisted games? No. He wasn't going back. They could figure things out on their own. He tromped up the stairs and into his room, trying to forget the boys were ever in his presence.

* * *

><p>"What do we do now?"<p>

Kyle, Kenny, and Butters sat in a fast-food place they passed in Awesometown, Antonio's Pizza, which was crammed with teenagers and younger kids ordering food and laughing. The three boys in the corner booth were far from enjoying themselves. Butters was the only one with enough presence to even talk; Kyle was seconds from running out of the place and Kenny was throttling his Mountain Dew in anger.

Butters' question didn't go ignored, however, by either boy.

"Fucking kill him," Kenny responded. Butters was suddenly reminded of Cartman for a brief moment, feeling himself subconsciously reaching over to tap his knee under the table. Just to remind him to calm down. But Kenny wasn't Cartman, Butters recalled, and he pulled his arm back.

Kyle gawked at Kenny for a few seconds, a tear or two actually slipping down his face. Kenny immediately dialed it back, putting the soda cup down and sighing. "…I don't know."

Butters gulped before looking at Kyle, who, to be fair, got it the worst of them. He'd been called out by Stan for agreeing to the plan. Butters, who'd spent nearly two years seeing the best in the worst people, understood what had Stan tied up in knots: he held Kyle up on a pedestal, and Kyle (unknowingly) walked off of it. Of course, on the other hand, Butters spent nearly five years with Kyle, and knew that Kyle still defended Stan, and was struggling to figure out why Stan rejected the proposal – rejected him. It would be a lot easier to sort out if there wasn't five years of separation and an obvious longing on both sides…

Butters wished he could say these things without sounding like he was insulting anyone. What the three of them needed now were distractions, light things.

"Maybe we made a mistake, all going at once," Kyle offered shakily. He was breathing steadier now, calmer. That was a good sign.

Kenny nodded, taking a sip from his crushed soda cup.

"We should go by ourselves. Maybe make our cases separately. Not gang up on him," Kyle elaborated.

"I seriously doubt he wants to see any of us again," Kenny said, giving Butters a pointed glare. Butters understood why.

"He would've gotten mad if any of us actually admitted why we were there," Butters countered. "And you know what? I feel bad for doing it like that. Really, fellas." Suddenly, a spark of an idea. "Maybe I should go over first. Apologize."

Kyle's eyes widened, clearly wanting to be the first to clear the fence with Stan. "…uh?"

Butters continued. "Stan needs to come back home with us, and no offense, Kenny, but I don't think he's exactly warmed up to you."

"Was thinking the same goddamn thing," Kenny said, by way of saying 'no offense'. His eyes suggested he wasn't lying.

"And Kyle," Butters noted, "Stan, he… he'll need some time to sort things out."

Kyle didn't get it – his confusion was obvious – but he nodded anyway, the tears vanishing.

In this way, the boys outlined how to enact Plan B over the rest of their remaining four days in Awesometown.

* * *

><p>AN: Here we are in Awesometown. I know the last chapter was short, but it was to transition to this… thing. In case you're wondering, yes, we will get some updates on what's going on in South Park. The next chapter takes place prominently in South Park, and re-introduces you guys to a few well-loved characters. But that's all I'll say. (teases) Again, thank you everyone for reading and reviewing!

DISCLAIMER: I don't own South Park.


	8. Another Roller in the Night

_Another Roller in The Night_

"Wendy, where are we going?"

"You'll see, Bebe."

"Seriously, Wendy, we shouldn't be out here!"

"Bebe, shut _up!_"

Bebe Stevens, the perky blonde with the flashy clothes and mild whining problems at South Park High, nervously followed her best friend, genius crusader for all things feminist Wendy Testaburger, to the outskirts of South Park. Bebe was literally terrified. With all the crap happening in South Park, going towards Jimbo and Ned's territory was a plain old bad idea. The forest could catch on fire, or Jimbo could shoot them, or Ned could blow them up, or all three could happen and then Mecha-Streisand could come out of her slumber to massacre them. Wendy refused to listen to Bebe's logic, though. Wendy Testaburger was stronger than that!

Bebe thought she was being a total fucking moron, but it wasn't like there was anything to do at school today. Cartman was going insane and there were fire crabs in the gym. At least going to the outskirts of town was a distraction.

"…what are we even looking for?" Bebe asked.

"Anything that might help end all this," Wendy responded.

"…so you think Stan won't help."

Wendy glared at Bebe for a second before her gaze softened. "He might help, but we can't count on it."

Unlike Kyle, who had a nervous breakdown when Stan left South Park, Wendy, his once-girlfriend and the only other person who had a legitimate claim on his heart, got through the mess of it all by weakly smiling and diving into other pursuits. Bebe feared she was going the way of Stan's dad, getting into hundreds of fads and excelling in them, only to find something new a few days later, to mask her unhappiness. The rotating circle of boyfriends, including Clyde and Kenny (of all people), didn't make things look any better. After a few months, though, Wendy began to even out, returning to her normal routine. Wendy didn't wallow in her own pain. She pushed herself through it, even if she looked like a total moron doing it.

Maybe that's why Kyle was still a fragile mess, and Wendy was student council president, top of the class, and leader of this ill-advised expedition to 'find things'.

"The fire crabs were coming from the northeast…" Wendy absentmindedly said, pushing through some bushes. Bebe followed her, knowing that her new blue clogs were getting ruined. The mud around here was thick and sticky, caking everything it touched. Wendy didn't seem to care, still moving her way through the town's badlands.

"What do we do if we find something?" Bebe asked. "Besides, you know, remember where it is."

"We go public with it," Wendy responded instantly. "Get people to do something before we're called a No Man's Land."

Bebe wasn't too familiar with the terminology. Her parents didn't read Batman, but called the principle 'being cut off'. If things got much worse, as Bebe figured they would, South Park would be shut away from the rest of Colorado until the insanity subsided. Bebe nodded in agreement, even if she wasn't sure what she was agreeing too.

They waded around in silence again. Bebe, her long hair tied back in a messy ponytail, slid around in the mud, wanting to go home but wanting more to get Wendy back to South Park safely. At worse, they'd have to wander around until Ned started firing at them –

"Bebe!" Wendy gasped.

Bebe immediately darted to Wendy's side, glancing at her. "What - ?"

Wendy pointed in front of her, her once confident face frozen in shock. Bebe refocused her attention and promptly took a step back.

"What is that?" she demanded.

Wendy stared at it, horrorstruck. It was a tear in the space in front of them, flapping helplessly in a self-created wind. Beneath the tear was a purple nightmare-scape, sparking and ominously pulsing. Wendy gulped.

"It's a hole in the universe," Wendy said haltingly.

Bebe gulped as well. They'd found more than they bargained for, clearly. Bebe moved to turn back and tell someone who could help, but Wendy moved towards the hole. Bebe gaped at her.

"Wendy!"

"It might not be, though…"

"Wendy, don't go near it!"

"Well, we have to know what it is."

"Wendy I swear to fucking God, don't go near that -!"

She went near it, sticking her finger close to the opening of the hole. The hole sparked and sent Wendy flying backwards, landing at Bebe's feet. Wendy helplessly passed out. Bebe covered her mouth to prevent a scream from letting loose.

Eventually she couldn't help it. She wailed helplessly. Even after help (in the form of Jimbo and Ned) arrived, she continued wailing.

* * *

><p>Stan opened his front door to see Butters on the other side. Stan frowned, but, much to Butters' relief, didn't slam the door on him. The way Butters saw it, Stan just needed to warm up to their presence. Butters hoped being friendly and bringing some fresh cookies from the nice little bakery he found would help.<p>

Stan glanced at Butters, then the cookies. "…hey Butters."

"Hiya Stan," Butters greeted. "Look, I'm sorry about what I said. Thought you might like some cookies, too. I saw a bakery –"

"Fiona's?" Stan queried. Butters nodded, handing over the small bag of cookies, tied with a cute blue ribbon. Stan took the bag and smiled a bit at it. Well, at least he smiled. Butters felt accomplished for a second.

"Come in," Stan finally said, and the two of them went back to the couch where it all began. Stan looked a bit uncomfortable, probably because he'd just burst out yelling at three of his former best friends, one of whom he clearly adored. Butters just smiled warmly at him from his perch near the left armrest.

They stared at each other for a few seconds, Stan fiddling with the ribbon on the cookie bag.

"You wanted to make sure I wasn't mad, didn't you?" Stan asked.

Butters blinked. "Naw. I wanted to say sorry. I didn't expect to be let in the house again." Which, honestly, was true. Butters liked Stan quite a lot back in elementary school – he was smart and carried himself well. He started worrying when Stan got cynical, but didn't do anything about it. It was South Park. Things would right themselves. By the time Stan bolted for town and everyone at South Park Elementary began gossiping about him, Butters felt honestly sorry about not trying to help. He had more to apologize for than Stan realized.

"It's all right," Stan admitted. He seemed calmer than earlier. Butters was right; they jumped the gun.

"Not really, I mean –"

"Butters. It's fine," Stan forcefully said.

"All righty." Butters paused. "…How is everything?"

"Here?" Stan scoffed. "This place is called Awesometown, how do you think it's going?"

"…Well, Fiona's makes nice cookies," Butters offered.

Stan glanced back down at the cookie bag, opening it up and handing a cookie to Butters before taking one for himself. "Well, besides that."

"…so you hate it here?"

"Pretty much."

"And you hate South Park?"

"Pretty much."

"But you like cookies."

"…you can't get me to go back to South Park for cookies, Butters."

"Oh I know that," Butters said with a giggle before evening out. "But that means you've gotten a bit better, right? With the cynicism?"

Stan stared at him, half a cookie dangling from his mouth. Butters ate his own cookie with a smile as Stan evened himself out, thinking.

"…I guess, then, yeah," Stan admitted. Butters cheerfully continued to eat the cookie, glad he'd gotten at least that much out of Stan. Stan finished off his own cookie before talking again. "It's gotten a little better."

"But you still don't wanna go back," Butters finished. "I understand…"

"I saw lava bombs on TV, why would I want to go back to that?"

"…well, we thought maybe having you there would help with everything," Butters answered. He had to be as honest as possible, though, so he continued. "Not everyone thought it was a good idea."

Stan's lips twitched a bit, as if a particularly damning thought crossed his mind. He was back to normal, or his version of normal, quickly. "How bad is it?"

"Pretty bad," Butters responded.

Stan took another cookie from the bag. "…What have you guys tried?"

"Nets. Lots of nets." Butters shrugged. "We don't even know why things are happening, though. Things fall from the sky, so we put up a net. Lava bombs show up, we fill our town with sand. We just kinda… react to things now. It's survival instincts, not problem-solving." Butters paused. "You were really good at that, y'know. Problem solving."

Stan glanced at the ground near the sofa. "I was, yeah." He paused. Butters folded his hands in his lap. Well, Stan wasn't exploding. This wasn't going poorly. But whatever Stan said next would determine what the group had to do.

"…I don't think I could do it now, though."

Butters stared at him for a few seconds before giving a pained smile. "Well, y'know, things happen."

The group would need to do more, then.

* * *

><p>AN: There it is. The hole in the fabric of the universe, the big magical plot bunny thing. It's finally introduced. Eight chapters in. Yeah, this story's gonna be a long one. But I'm rather loving writing Wendy and Bebe – they're intriguing in ways the boys aren't. They, along with Red, will appear in later chapters prominently, with everyone else. Also, Butters bought cookies! Isn't he adorable? YAY BUTTERS! (one-woman Butters appreciation club)

As always, thank you for reading, your feedback, everything! I'm glad at the reception this is getting, since it is a little weird.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own South Park.


	9. The Sky Is Falling Down

_After All, The Sky is Falling Down…_

"Wendy's in the hospital?"

Bebe nodded sadly, standing in front of her and Wendy's group of friends. This included Red, whose real name had been lost in the ether since elementary school; Token Black, the smart, kindly black student who was dating Wendy; and Clyde Donovan, a very average boy who didn't make very strong impressions on anyone, but was a nice enough guy and had a strong moral compass. Right now, the three of them looked wildly confused. Bebe understood why – yesterday, she and Wendy took off to avoid fire crabs and angry Cartman. Today, Wendy was in the hospital and Bebe couldn't explain why. She tried, really, she did. But since half of the adult population of South Park didn't even understand what the wormhole was, or how it only affected Wendy and not any of them, it made things tough.

"Is she going to be all right?" Token asked immediately.

Bebe bit her lip. "I don't know."

Token blanched. Red, the de-facto leader of their social group and most popular girl in school, tossed her red mane of long, shiny hair behind her shoulder, appearing irritated.

"This fucking town," Red spat out. "The sooner we fix this crap, the sooner people will stop vanishing and getting hurt."

Bebe wanted to point out that Kenny died every day, at least three times a day, but knew Red wasn't too concerned about Kenny McCormick, or any of his friends. In Red's eyes, they were the worst of the worst, a lightning rod for trouble.

"What can we do?" Clyde asked Red. "Honestly. There's really nothing."

"Wendy was just trying to help," Bebe impressed on them.

"She'd been trying to figure this whole mess out for months," Token told them. "She thought she had it figured out, actually."

Bebe blinked. This was news to her. Judging from Red's suddenly slack-jawed face and Clyde's widening eyes, she wasn't alone.

"…so she might've known what she was looking for yesterday?" Red asked.

"She seemed determined to find something," Bebe admitted.

"I don't think she knew it was a… what you called it, a wormhole?" Token responded, hoping he got the words right. Bebe nodded at him, and he continued. "But she might've known something important was on the outskirts of town. I don't know how she figured it out."

Bebe couldn't say she knew, either. Wendy was definitely the smartest of them, but she thought the raven-haired genius was going on a wild goose chase. Why didn't Wendy clue her in? Bebe could've handled it. She wasn't the neurotic waif everyone seemed to think she was.

"Should we go there?" Clyde asked.

"And risk getting in the hospital, too?" Red scoffed. "No way." She paused. "Although…"

"What?" Token asked. Bebe didn't like the look on Red's face at all – she was pondering something unsavory, Bebe could just tell. Her pursed lips sent a shiver up Bebe's spine.

Red put a finger to her lip. "…did you hear what Kyle and his stupid friends are trying to do?"

"They're not stupid," Bebe muttered. She was ignored.

"Get Stan Marsh back?" Clyde offered.

Red nodded. "Which is a dumb-ass idea. I can't believe I'm saying this, but I agree with Cartman on that one." She collected herself. "Maybe we can convince Stan, once he gets back and all, because you know he'll come back –"

It was like Red had to convince herself that someone as universally detested as Stan Marsh would even show his face in South Park. Bebe understood why everyone hated Stan (everyone except eternally loyal Kyle and Kenny) – he turned into a complete tool before he moved. And once he was gone, imaginations ran wild as to why. Stan still had more rumors flying about him than anyone actually attending South Park High.

" – to go look at that wormhole."

Bebe blanched. "It put Wendy in the hospital!"

"Maybe it'll fix the broken part of his dumb-ass brain," Red countered.

Token stepped in. "Hey, we don't know. Maybe Stan's really changed since we last saw him."

"Doubtful," Red muttered.

"But we don't know. Let's not go shoving him into wormholes prematurely."

Clyde opened his mouth to say something, but the sound of the bell cut him off. The group departed, waving good-bye to each other.

Bebe waited until she was out of the other three's earshot before sighing. Bebe wasn't like the others in her group. Wendy was usually the person who supplied balance to them. Token was inclined to lean towards Bebe's side, being nice to everyone, but he wouldn't say much in front of brash Red. Red tended to steamroller over anything Clyde would say, leaving Bebe to defend people no one wanted to defend.

And much as Bebe was popular, and Kyle and his group were popular, these mind games kept happening, especially with Red. Bebe didn't know if Red really hated the boys, or if there was some underlying bitterness there that Bebe wouldn't understand.

All Bebe knew was that she was definitely visiting Wendy today. If she was awake, there'd be some questions to ask.

* * *

><p>Cartman was fucking bored.<p>

There was the obvious lack of delirious three a.m. conversations with Butters, which was depressing but Cartman had to act like that didn't matter much. There was the fact that he really didn't have anyone to eat with at school at the moment. Plus, Stan fucking Marsh was probably going to come back, and Kyle would proceed to drool all over him. Fucking Stan Marsh.

Right now he was washing his hands in the bathroom. He supposed he'd go to the library during study hall and work on that paper he'd been assigned in history. Cartman didn't know why he had to write about Japanese internment camps, just because he suggested they weren't a bad idea in classroom debate. Oh well, it only had to be four pages long.

"Staring at your reflection, fatass?"

Cartman glanced up from the water, seeing Craig move over to the urinal.

"Like talking to people when you piss, queer?" Cartman retorted.

"Touché," Craig noted. "You looked pretty engrossed, though."

"Thinking about a paper," Cartman said blithely, turning off the faucet and moving to the paper towel dispenser. "Why do you care so much?"

"I assumed you were concerned with Stan Marsh," Craig admitted, his voice rising in volume as he relieved himself.

"…how'd you know about that?"

"Everyone knows," Craig responded. "And I mean everyone. Even Tweek."

"…oh god damn it. Even the retarded -?"

"_Don't you dare, Cartman."_

"…god damn it." He paused, throwing his paper towel into the trash can, eventually leaning against it, not looking at Craig. "What're they saying?"

"Depends on who you're talking to," Craig said, zipping himself up and flushing the toilet. Moving to the sinks, he added, "Personally, I'm not looking forward to him showing up again."

"Neither am I," Cartman spat.

"Why?"

"Because he's a fucking asshole, that's why!"

"…so are you," Craig spat back.

"He's a bigger asshole than me, Craig, trust me. Why don't you wanna see him?"

"Because whenever the four of you get together, bad things happen," Craig reminded Cartman. "Remember the guinea pigs?"

"Unfortunately," Cartman frowned. "…so what, you're saying -?"

"It won't help. It'll make things worse." Craig paused, turning off the faucet. "In theory, I mean." He adjusted his blue snow-cap before grabbing a paper towel from behind Cartman.

"I never thought about that," Cartman admitted.

"You wouldn't, you're a dumbass."

"Nice talking to you, dipshit."

"See you later, fuckface."

* * *

><p>"So, you like watching baseball, too?" Butters asked Stan later that evening. Stan figured it was all right to let him stay. Randy wasn't due back from work until eight, so the two of them made some dinner out of what was lying around the house. Butters was a pretty good cook, Stan found out, when he managed to turn half a bag of noodles and various things from the disorganized refrigerator into the best macaroni and cheese Stan ever had. The two of them sat on the couch, eating and watching a game.<p>

"Sometimes. I tend to mute it. The announcers are shit," Stan admitted. He used to hate baseball as a kid, because it was so damn slow. But something clicked in middle school. Stan was a pretty good pitcher, he realized, and the rigmarole known as Little League wasn't as heinous to him anymore. It was odd, how, as he hated absolutely everything around him, he did find solace in baseball. As a pitcher, it was easy to focus entirely on yourself. As a cynic, it was easy for him to see his opponents as shit.

Needless to say, he didn't know why, or how, but Stan Marsh greatly enjoyed baseball. Not that he played for the school or anything. He pitched against a wall, or, occasionally, Randy, who couldn't hit to save his life.

"But you used to hate Little League," Butters recalled.

"We all did," Stan reminded Butters. "…I dunno. Something came together."

"Do you play for your school?"

"Oh no. I hate those guys. Jocks." Stan made a face before eating another bite of macaroni.

"I see." Butters glanced at the television. "That guy kinda looks like you."

Stan narrowed his eyes. "…which guy?" He wasn't used to people commenting on his looks. Then again, he wasn't used to talking to people without hearing their words as massive amounts of shit.

"The pitcher," Butters noted, pointing at him. Stan frowned. He wasn't too familiar with the teams playing – he usually watched the Dodgers, since they were the Awesometown team, but they weren't on today. However, he knew this pitcher was popular, since he'd at least seen him before. And with his long brown hair, he did kind of resemble Stan. Stan shrugged.

"A little bit," Stan agreed. "I look older than him, though."

Butters giggled. "You do, you do. …Is this guy any good?"

"I think?" Stan admitted. "I'm not very familiar with San Francisco's team."

"No worries." Butters paused. "…I missed you, Stan."

Stan didn't expect that. He put his fork down and looked at Butters, who smiled, wistfully to himself. "…you missed me?"

"Yeah. I mean, you were our balance," Butters admitted. "I kinda wished I'd done more to, y'know, help."

"There's really nothing you –"

"But what kind of friend was I? I didn't even try." He paused. "I'm pretty sure half the school thinks what Kenny and Kyle and I are doing is a fool's errand. But that's South Park, isn't it? Everything will go back to normal in a bit. I… I thought you'd be fine. And I was really wrong, and it made me really sad, y'know? That I couldn't help."

Stan stared at him, a bit stunned. He didn't know what to say at first. For one thing, Butters, of all people, got to the heart of what made South Park so unpalatable to Stan – nothing ever changed. But he attributed it to himself, which was what made Butters so… unique, Stan finally settled on. Butters was guileless, completely, unabashedly himself. There was no bullshit with him, because he physically wasn't capable of it. Stan smiled warmly.

"That's in the past, Butters."

"But it was such a Professor Chaos thing to do."

"Not quite on the level of the Coon, I agree." Stan's smile stayed plastered on his face. Butters grinned a bit at that one.

"He's not too bad. You just gotta get used to him."

"Oh I'm sure."

* * *

><p>AN: First of all, I'd like to apologize for the delay in this chapter. I've been preparing all my things so I can return to college in a few weeks, so it took me a bit longer to format and edit this chapter.

A/N 2: All right, there are a lot of support characters in this that finally get introduced. Probably the most important will be Red, which might come as a shock, but all will be revealed. Also, here you are, Craig fans, have some angry Craig action.

A/N 3: The pitcher mentioned to look like Stan is based on an actual pitcher. If you're familiar with baseball, and can recall the description of Stan in this story, you should be able to piece together who it is from the clues.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own South Park.


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